


Nexum Contritium

by cardinalrachelieu



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: 'i'M Tr y i N g' i wail in response, 'rachel' you plead 'stop killing the poor bats', Angst, F/M, anyway there's implied character death, even though i didn't explicitly write it into the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalrachelieu/pseuds/cardinalrachelieu
Summary: Cassian gulps, sheaths the long, reddened blade in the scabbard along his spine, allows himself to look at her for half a heartbeat before tearing his eyes away. “Az—”“I said no!” she barks, lets the power sleeping in her bones flare to life—a savage, terrifying curse she’s spent the better part of six months trying to ignore.Azriel has the good sense to pause when he scents her magic, and Nesta decides that today she’s thankful for the raging inferno churning inside her.“Dammit, Nes—not now.” The pride in Cassian's voice eclipses what’s meant to be a scolding tone, and his eyes shine with reverent awe.Azriel reaches for her, slow, like a hunter trying to convince a wounded animal that he means it no harm—only, the animal knows better. And Nesta has always been a wolf.-----prompt fill: nessian + first kiss





	Nexum Contritium

**Author's Note:**

> u kno it's gonna be sad bc i used latin for the title :/

“You can take your noble bravado and shove it up your ass, bat boy.” Her back is ramrod straight, eyes narrow, jaw set in a hard line. Anyone else would’ve crumpled under such a stare, but not him, not Cassian, not her—

“Az,” Cassian says, eyes shifting to focus on the Illyrian standing behind her, “get her out of here.”

“No,” she bites, a snarl rippling across her mouth as she whips around to fix the Shadowsinger with her brutal gaze. Then, to Cassian—“You don’t get to send me away so you can martyr yourself in private!”

Cassian gulps, sheaths the long, reddened blade in the scabbard along his spine, allows himself to look at her for half a heartbeat before tearing his eyes away. “Az—”

“I said no!” she barks, lets the power sleeping in her bones flare to life—a savage, terrifying curse she’s spent the better part of six months trying to ignore.

Azriel has the good sense to pause when he scents her magic, and Nesta decides that today she’s thankful for the raging inferno churning inside her.

“Dammit, Nes—not now.” The pride in Cassian's voice eclipses what’s meant to be a scolding tone, and his eyes shine with reverent awe.

Azriel reaches for her, slow, like a hunter trying to convince a wounded animal that he means it no harm—only, the animal knows better. And Nesta has always been a wolf.

“Touch me and I’ll burn the wings from your back,” she hisses, eyes blazing orange as she calls on the fire in her blood—singes one of his razor sharp talons to make sure he knows she’s not bluffing.

Azriel winces but doesn’t relent, scarred hands stretching toward her—to drag her away, to keep her safe. A growl rumbles in Nesta’s chest, and she strikes at the Shadowsinger when he ignores her warning. It takes her burning a meter-long stripe across the thin, rosy-brown membrane to get him to back off.

She hates herself for it, for turning her ability on him this way. Nesta’s stomach roils at the thought of being the reason for another mark on his densely scarred body, but… she’ll apologize later—once they make it out of this; once her mate is safe.

_Mate, mate, mate._

She’s known for months now—known and rejected the bond; rejected the idea that her future was decided for her by some all-powerful Mother; rejected the life forced upon her by a blackened cauldron and a mad king.

“Nesta”—Cassian’s voice is raw; ashy—like the filth and rot blanketing the ground around them—“please.”

It’s the _please_ that breaks her, that smothers the flames licking at her soul, that has her head snapping back so she can search his hazel eyes for the lie in his tone—so she can yell at him for being obstinate and dramatic and selfish, but… she can only find desperate, pleading honesty in his gaze.

Cassian brings a hand to her face, traces her jaw with his thumb. He’s never this gentle with her—which is how she knows this is it; he’s serious.

“No,” she breathes, horrified—finally understanding what he means to do.

The hoard draws closer on the horizon, a grey-brown swarm that blots out the light and kindles some primal fear lurking deep in the recesses of her mind.

“Sweetheart, there’s not time—”

She grips the knife belt slung across his chest—anchors herself to him. “No—”

“—and you need to get as far away from here as you can.” There’s a tenderness in the way he speaks that makes her want to cling to him—weather this storm together.

_Mate, mate, mate._

“Don’t do this to me,” she whispers, quiet enough so only Cassian hears the wobble in her icy timbre.

He slides his fingers around to the back of her neck, tips his chin down until their foreheads meet. She wants to hate him for this choice, but instead she feels the hot sting of tears cutting jagged paths over her blood-smeared cheeks. Nesta fights to keep her chest from shaking—and notices Cassian’s breaths are coming steadily. Stubborn, battle-born calm in the face of oblivion.

The creatures are close enough now that Nesta can hear the symphony of screeches staining the breeze—a broken, inhuman cacophony of tortured souls who received a second life when all they wanted was eternal rest.

“I love you,” he rasps.

A part of her has long wondered what the words would sound like coming from his lips. How cruel that she’s allowed to know only now—at the end of it all. “Don’t—”

“I’m sorry I waited this long to tell you,” he murmurs, drawing back so he can look at her properly. There’s an easy smile on his face that sends a new wave of anguish through Nesta. She wants to lash out at him—curse him for thinking he can abandon her in this life—but instead she throws her hand over his wrist, digs her fingers in as if that will keep them together.

Before the building sob can claw its way past her teeth, Cassian presses his lips to hers, crushes their bodies together until all of Nesta’s sharp angles find a home against him—until she can feel and see and taste the bond thrumming between them, real as the rain beginning to fall from high above this corpse-strewn hellscape.

Devotion. Regret. Conviction. Peace. Nesta knows the nature of tempest swirling inside her mate—knows because his emotions are now hers.

 _Mate, mate, mate,_  her heart pounds—the tragic notes of a song written in the ink of rapidly fading time.

Cassian tilts his head, somehow draws her closer before pulling away—

“And I’m sorry for this—”

His hands shove her backwards, cause her to stumble—and Azriel’s arms form a cage around her waist.

Before she can loose a scream, wind and shadow swallow them whole—and the last thing she sees before night takes hold is her mate turning to face a blackened, writhing sky head-on.

**Author's Note:**

> just be thankful i didn't write the final part of this where nesta feels the bond go silent :) :) :)
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr](http://yalenayardeen.tumblr.com)


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